Pretty good album/band. I got the first one (from 2008) a couple of weeks ago. They started out as an Iron Maiden tribute band, but as an Amazon reviewer said it might be closer to Brainstorm/Tad Morose. The singer doesn't sound very Brucey except in a couple of spots. So it's not like a Machine Men deal.

Not a bad album. Production's pretty weak, but it's good for a laugh if you can get it at a good price. Wish they'd follow the Clairvoyant's lead and have a go at original material if they had some money behind it. I guess I got a low rate copy without the 2 Japanese bonus tracks, but in this case I'm not heartbroken. Bruce 'Lee' Chickenson is pretty funny.

Here I thought I knew what I was going to say and lo and behold Don Dokken and George Lynch are on a repeat of the metal show from 2012 together when I got home. Actually it doesn't change much, although it was nice to see George admit he's released some absolute turds in the past. I purposely screwed with the order to move all the Dokken remakes to the end, but the 7 originals aren't anything to write home about. The worst part of it is they supposedly have another full album in the can, so they should have culled the best ORIGINAL songs from that session and left the remakes alone.

I'm 99% sure I never made a head-fi account, and if I did, I didn't post there. You may be confusing me with Confispect or TDS? I used to have a pony as my avatar here, way back when a whole bunch of people did.

Over the past decade, Steven Wilson's relationship with prog rock over has grown increasingly intimate. He previewed a killer new band on the live album Get All You Deserve -- woodwind/multi-instrumentalist Theo Travis, keyboardist Adam Holzman, session bass and stick player Nick Beggs, drummer Marco Minnemann, and guitarist Guthrie Govan -- put a diverse, sophisticated face on Wilson's 21st century brand of prog. The Raven That Refused to Sing and Other Stories is their first studio outing. Wilson was also able to coax Alan Parsons out of semi-retirement to co-produce and engineer the effort, and he fully committed: the album's crystalline, detailed sound and spacious ambience reflect some of his best work behind the boards.

The result is a collection of six new songs -- three over ten minutes in length -- that reflect the very best of what classic prog rock aspired to: skillfully written music with expertly arranged compositions of color, nuance, texture, dynamics, narrative, and artfulness played by a group of stellar musicians. The songs are based on short stories Wilson wrote or co-wrote with Hajo Mueller, which center around the supernatural -- though this is not actually a concept record. While the album begins with a warning sign --- the first four minutes of opener "Luminol" are a knotty, driving, near-fusion instrumental workout that gives way to a complex, beautifully wrought mini-suite that draws on sources such as Pink Floyd, early Genesis, and King Crimson -- the Mellotron was actually used on the latter's classic recordings.

While "Drive Home" builds gradually with a near-majestic sweep of harmonic and lyric invention, it features wonderfully inventive guitar work by Govan. "The Holy Drinker" is a sprawling ride with excellent keyboards by Holzman, a smoking guest guitar spot by Parsons, and a dazzling soprano saxophone from Travis. It commences intensely with many angles simultaneously but never once loses its musicality. "The Watchmaker"'s intro of lilting, layered, acoustic guitars takes on heft as the ensemble enters with furious bass and drum work, and a gorgeous flute solo by Travis. The increasing drama includes death metal riffing, syncopated vocal choruses, and a flood of strings that never overdo it.

The title track is the set closer, a lush, straightforward number about an old man speaking to his long-dead sister. His loneliness and grief are heartbreaking in Wilson's vocal expression, before strings, Mellotron, winds, and rolling drums build to a final, dramatic conclusion. The Raven That Refused to Sing and Other Stories is the best of Wilson's three solo projects; let's hope this particular group stays together awhile. In terms of musical possibility, the sky is the limit with this bunch.

And now.....

Quote:

review by Gregory Heaney

Opeth frontman Mikael Åkerfeldt and Porcupine Tree's Steven Wilson bring their prog powers as a duo on the self-titled debut of their new project, Storm Corrosion. Longtime admirers and musical collaborators, with Wilson acting as producer on some of Opeth's groundbreaking albums and Åkerfeldt appearing on some Porcupine Tree tracks, it was only a matter of time before these two made the jump from guests to co-conspirators on a new musical venture.

The end product is something altogether different from what fans of either band might expect, moving away from the rock and metal of the pair's main gigs in favor of a more flowing and expansive folk-touched sound. These spacious musical boundaries give the album a beautiful, dreamlike feeling as it drifts from track to track with a measured pace that shows off the highly refined songwriting ability being put to use on the record.

Given the nature of their earlier collaborations, fans diving into Storm Corrosion expecting a sequel to Blackwater Park are going to be disappointed as they unexpectedly hit the shallow end of the pool, but even though the album doesn't sound much like the metal masterpiece, that doesn't make it unworthy of a listener's attention, and anyone open-minded enough to approach the project without any expectations will be quickly swept off into the spacious perennial twilight created by these two master craftsmen.

Though Porcupine Tree's permanent lineup was in place by the time Sky Moves Sideways was complete, it was actually a combination of old and new, with a number of tracks once again done by Wilson on his own. Regardless of the provenance of one song or another, though, it was another fine release under the Porcupine Tree name, continuing the excellence of Up the Downstair while achieving a new liquid sense of drama and overall flow.

Barbieri's keyboard skills alone made for a wonderful addition to the ranks, easily capturing the slow sense of unfolding atmosphere and elegance combined from earlier Porcupine Tree work while adding his own touches here and there, a touch of playfulness and improvisation. The Edwin/Maitland rhythm section sound like they were born to work together, able to both set slow, spacy moods and quick gallops and dance-skewed approaches both. Wilson, meanwhile, is still himself, calling to mind strange lyric images of rural collapse and romantic connection in his ever stronger, commanding but never straining vocals. As for guitar, there's subtle delicacy and headbanging overload and plenty of space in between for more.

Overall, there's not much in the way of immediate sonic difference from Up the Downstair, more a sense of exploring and establishing styles, almost as if the band members were getting used to working with each other. The tripped-out title track bookends the album (perhaps in a not so subtle nod to a similar sequence on Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here with "Shine on You Crazy Diamond"). The real winners, though, are the jazz-touched acoustic/electric dreamscape of "Stars Die," with a great lead melody and overdubbed chorus from Wilson, and the immediately following "Moonloop," an instrumental calm then rocking jam that's credited to all four members.

While the jazz fascists (read: purists) may be screaming "sellout" because Diana Krall decided to record something other than standards this time out, the rest of us can enjoy the considerable fruit of her labors. The Girl in the Other Room is, without question, a jazz record in the same manner her other outings are. The fact that it isn't made up of musty and dusty "classics" may irk the narrow-minded and reactionary, but it doesn't change the fact that this bold recording is a jazz record made with care, creativity, and a wonderfully intimate aesthetic fueling its 12 songs.

Produced by Tommy LiPuma and Krall, the non-original material ranges from the Mississippi-fueled jazzed-up blues of Mose Allison's "Stop This World" to contemporary songs that are reinvented in Krall's image by Tom Waits ("Temptation"), Joni Mitchell ("Black Crow"), Chris Smither ("Love Me Like a Man"), and her husband, Elvis Costello ("Almost Blue"). These covers are striking. Krall's read of Allison's tune rivals his and adds an entirely different shade of meaning, as does her swinging, jazzy, R&B-infused take on Smither's sexy nugget via its first hitmaker, Bonnie Raitt. Her interpretation of Waits' "Temptation" is far more sultry than Holly Cole's because Krall understands this pop song to be a jazz tune rather than a jazzy pop song. "Black Crow" exists in its own space in the terrain of the album, because Krall understands that jazz is not mere articulation but interpretation. Likewise, her reverent version of Costello's "Almost Blue" takes it out of its original countrypolitan setting and brings it back to the blues.

As wonderful as these songs are, however, they serve a utilitarian purpose; they act as bridges to the startling, emotionally charged poetics in the material Krall has composed with Costello. Totaling half the album, this material is full of grief, darkness, and a tentative re-emergence from the shadows. It begins in the noir-ish melancholy of the title track, kissed with bittersweet agony by Gershwin's "Summertime." The grain in Krall's pained voice relates an edgy third-person tale that is harrowing in its lack of revelation and in the way it confounds the listener; it features John Clayton on bass and Jeff Hamilton on drums. In "I've Changed My Address," Krall evokes the voices of ghosts such as Louis Armstrong and Anita O'Day in a sturdy hip vernacular that channels the early beat jazz of Waits and Allison. The lyric is solid and wonderfully evocative not only of time and place, but of emotional terrain. Krall's solo in the tune is stunning.

"Narrow Daylight," graced by gospel overtones, is a tentative step into hope with its opening line: "Narrow daylight enters the room, winter is over, summer is near." This glimmer of hope is short-lived, however, as "Abandoned Masquerade" reveals the shattered promise in the aftermath of dying love. "I'm Coming Through" and "Departure Bay," which close the set, are both underscored by the grief experienced at the loss of Krall's mother. They are far from sentimental, nor are they sophomoric, but through the eloquence of Krall's wonderfully sophisticated melodic architecture and rhythmic parlance they express the experience of longing, of death, and of acceptance. The former features a beautiful solo by guitarist Anthony Wilson and the latter, in its starkness, offers memory as reflection and instruction. This is a bold new direction by an artist who expresses great willingness to get dirt on her hands and to offer its traces and smudges as part and parcel of her own part in extending the jazz tradition, through confessional language and a wonderfully inventive application that is caressed by, not saturated in, elegant pop.

Everybody's different....
I haven't spent a lot of time with some of the earlier ones, so when I woke up really early and couldn't get back to sleep, I chose that one. I did quite like some of the songs on it, but not all of it was great.

I think I am lacking a couple of the earliest offerings,though....so I'm not prepared to declare a least favorite, I guess....ACapture.PNG

I'm 99% sure I never made a head-fi account, and if I did, I didn't post there. You may be confusing me with Confispect or TDS? I used to have a pony as my avatar here, way back when a whole bunch of people did.

Some people can't get past the fact that in this he uses a guitar technique like David Gilmour used on a couple songs from The Wall. A very trippy bit of music, not something I'd listen to all the time but nice to break out once in a while.

Might be hard to grasp how all-encompassing a trip can be if you never have partaken, I'll admit.